


The Woods Today

by visionofblue (merelyafigment)



Category: Alias (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, contains no actual teddy bears, old fic I barely remember writing, silly spies, that song is stuck in my head now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25369864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/visionofblue
Summary: Rachel faces Sark for the first time since the whole unfortunate torturing episode. Post-Series. (Somewhat silly.)
Relationships: Rachel Gibson/Julian Sark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	The Woods Today

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the whole series. (Touches mainly on S5 events.) 
> 
> Written for Copy That -- Mission: Fic Possible September 2007
> 
> Very old fic, originally posted to livejournal around September 2007. Reposting it here so I don't lose it again.

****

The setting really was lovely, Rachel mused as she walked down the sheltered path. She was accompanied only by the sounds of breeze rustling branches, her crunching steps, and calling birds.

"We're detecting no other human heat signatures in your immediate area, Oracle."

Well, and the steady voices from her tasteful earrings/comm. "Copy that, Houdini."

Sun leaked through the trees lined up on either side of her, like soldiers, making a corridor. It appeared to go on forever, disappearing into the mist. Any other time, the optical illusion would have appealed to her. The current circumstances made it disconcerting. If this was a pleasant walk in the foreign countryside, it would be magical. On this Op, it made her appropriately wary.

Especially given who was going to be joining her on the path.

A slight breeze managed to make it past her sentinels, the trees, to ruffle her black bobbed wig. She was smartly dressed, in a clean-lined outfit with a skirt that was comfortable for once. It wasn't hers, belonging to her disguise, but if she were someone slightly different, she might have chosen to wear it.. Nothing was skin-tight or revealing, and the coat was nice and warm in the crisp air.

Rachel focused on steady breaths, and the charming handbag holding more than lipstick in her hand, to keep her cool. She was getting better in the field, gaining confidence on missions. Absorbing knowledge and skills like a sponge.

They trusted her enough to do this.

This wasn't an average mission.

She'd always expected to see him again, feeling the unconscious wait like an itch under her skin. (It wasn't pleasant.)

Rachel calmed herself with idle thoughts, pushing the past out of her mind. "How big of a heat signature can the tasked satellite detect? It's so picturesque out here, I keep expecting to see a deer trotting by, or frolicking rabbits."

She was briefly struck by a mental image of a bunny hopping around with a small explosive strapped to its back. The longer she did this, the less innocent anything seemed. Or maybe that was just the case when it involved Sark.

"That's also a negative on bunny-rabbits and Bambi, Oracle."

Figures. This particular hunter was after much larger game.

Eric's voice held warm humor, drawing Rachel's gaze to the sky. The unseen satellite hanging somewhere in space. The canopy provided by the trees would block any direct sightline, disallowing realistic video of her, but they were tracking her movement through infra-red and other views. 

"Sounds much nicer there than here at comm. central. Next time, I call dibs on the picturesque stroll through nature."

Rachel covered her soft laugh with her hand, but was sobered by her thoughts. "If the wanted terrorist picks someone else to rendezvous with in the middle of nowhere next time, it's fine by me." She wouldn‘t let her voice shake.

"One can only hope he gets eaten by a bear, and saves us a next time." Sydney's wry voice joined in, steady and comforting. She was miles away, with Eric, but had been more than happy to come out of retirement when she'd heard of Sark's presence.

They'd been worried that they might have to shackle Sydney to the surveillance van to get her to stay away.

His rules. Rachel came alone. The satellite surveillance would make sure it wasn't a trap, and they were close enough to come to her aid.

"Are there bears?"

"Negative."

Damn.

"Heads up." Sydney turned all business. "We're detecting one person entering your location. Not in your immediate vicinity, but heading there."

Rachel tensed, finally stopping her stroll down the tree-lined path.

The soft chirp of birds, the small noises of leaves and twigs, started to sound more ominous.

It could be her rendezvous. It could be some lone sightseer. Her fingers ached to reach for the firearm tucked under her coat. She was field-rated with it. Her aim wasn't perfect, but there had been few qualms about sending her out alone.

When she'd first met him, she'd just started learning.

She'd had to learn his lessons fast.

Rachel tried to keep her breathing steady, her nerves in check. 

Make the exchange. 

Watch your back. 

Get out. 

Don't let him affect you. 

(That part was a lost cause, but she couldn't let him see how he affected her.)

She scanned the area. She was more sheltered than she appeared, anyone standing on the tree-lined path would be. It had never seemed more like a whole other world.

_If you go down to the woods today  
You're sure of a big surprise  
If you go down to the woods today  
You better go in disguise_

Strange things flitted through your mind at the worst times. Rachel tried to tamp down on the silly children's song suddenly circling in her head. She'd always found it creepy, and now she knew why.

"Target confirmed. Target is nearing path." Sydney had chosen to refer to Sark as 'the target'.

"Are you humming under your breath?" Rachel ignored the urge to cover her face at Eric's mild question.

Had she been _humming_ that?

Get in the game, Rachel. There's no room for error with this man.

"Target is preparing to enter the path. Should be approaching approximately ten yards ahead, to your right."

Rachel saw movement beyond the trees.

Then there here was, stepping easily through the branches, out of the mist. Like even the trees wouldn't dare snag his expensively stylish coat, long and black wool, over a black turtleneck.

Rachel hated the effect he had on her. The conflict of memory, reality and deception.

She remembered Bob Brown -- charming, a kindred spirit, an unexpected thrill. _Hands skimming over her, tasting bare skin with her smile, cheeks flushed from the rush._

She remembered her first glimpse of Sark -- arrogant, full of mockery, disappointed in her skills. _Trying to make her feel naive, pretend he hadn't made any mistakes, hadn't been even more taken in than she had._

She'd seen right through him then.

She remembered how standing up and throwing that attitude back in his face hadn't seemed to upset him. Just the opposite. 

_An upward tug of his lips, blue eyes watching her on the phone, and a declination of payment._

She remembered a reunion of pain and ruthlessness. Business above all.

That was the only thing she should remember. Not blue eyes, and quirking lips. (Strange appreciation.)

_Thought a lot about you since the last time we saw each other. Was hoping we’d meet again._

Her fingertips brushed gunmetal in reassurance, reaching cautiously into her coat at his approach.

Natural blonde hair glinted in filtered sunlight. She could never tell if he was wearing a disguise.

"You followed the protocol, I presume?" Not bothering to feign the concern of reaching for his weapon, his voice sounded just the same.

She met his odd politeness firmly. "We're alone."

Mostly.

"Excellent." That gaze flickered over her, and she _stayed_ firm. "Do give my regards to whomever is backing you up on comms, especially the retired Agent Bristow."

"We'll show him where he can stick his regards." Eric muttered in her ear. "Why are we not arresting this guy, again?"

"We made a deal. The information on this terrorist cell is more important than Sark." Sydney sounded like internally she agreed with Weiss.

"They're overjoyed." Rachel smirked sarcastically.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to go radio silent?"

"Sure. How about I just hand over my weapon and _invite you into my hotel room_ , too. That work for you?" She arched an eyebrow with the personal jab. 

Personal. A shared memory. She tried to keep the thoughts of falling into his hotel room, lost in his kiss, from coloring her snide face.

“Always.” He didn't take offense like she had hoped, lips merely twitching upwards at one crooked corner, as his focus turned from her face to what he carried.

His behaviour was less detached and truly cold than the last time she had seen him. He reminded her more of the man she had known before he'd tortured her.

She wished he didn‘t.

His black leather satchel was far too large for just a disk, reminding her of something an old-time Doctor would use for house calls. Sark made it seem stylish. She watched carefully as he placed it on the ground, opening it.

Her hand wrapped around her gun under her coat.

Sark straightened, pulling out...a bottle of wine. He gracefully tilted it towards her disbelieving stare.

"You brought wine?" She couldn't help but blink. She was pretty sure it was an indignant blink, at least.

"Charming." Eric intoned bitterly in her ear.

"Bastard." Sydney hissed in tandem.

"It's quite a pleasurable vintage, I assure you."

"I'm fine, but help yourself." Her tone carried her disapproval. No yummy poison for me, thanks. She would not be amused.

If Sydney were here, she’d probably break the bottle over his head.

"I can also assure your safety. I have no employer making any demands of this meeting." His eyes flicked to the path, and that wasn't regret, as he deftly popped the cork. He was not a man with regrets. "The circumstances this time should be more to both our likings."

She lost the view of those cold blue eyes when his head tilted back with his long swallow of the wine.

"I'll kill him." Sydney's voice in her ear, echoing the part of Rachel's mind that knew what it felt like to be strapped to a chair with this man standing over her. (If only that were all she could feel.) "Don't drink it. Even if it isn’t drugged, there could still be a tracker in it."

Rachel knew that even though Sydney couldn't see him take the drink, his Adam's apple smoothly moving along the arch of his throat, she was good enough to guess what Sark was doing in the silence.

After his relishing drink, Rachel watched him turn the bottle's neck in his hand thoughtfully. "It's an ideal spot, and we're on the verge of striking a fortuitous deal. Why not also take advantage of the lovely day?"

He had to be kidding.

"We're covertly exchanging dangerous intelligence secrets, not picnicking." She hissed quietly, even though there was no one around.

Instead of appearing upset, a small sigh passed Sark's lips, showing his disappointment with her. "As I'm sure you'll learn…in this line of employment one must excel at multi-tasking, my dear Rachel."

The way he was watching her, the familiar tone of his voice...for the first time, she wondered why he had chosen this path. Insisted on her.

She wondered what else was in the bag.

What was a multi-tasking amoral spy's idea of a date? Of an apology?

Should she break the bottle over his head?

*****  
End  
*****

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Contains some dialogue lifted directly from the show, and “Teddy Bears’ Picnic” lyrics by Jimmy Kennedy


End file.
